


Spies At Hogwarts

by Blitzz8



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers, StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bad Voldemort, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Car Crash TW, Character Death, Established Relationship, Good Dumbledore, Hogwarts, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Orphan AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reincarnation, Relationship(s), Secret Relationship, Spies & Secret Agents, Wool's Orphanage (Harry Potter), abuse mention, author doesn’t know how to be brief and to the point when describing things and they are very sorry, author loves excessive use of commas and they refuse to apologise for this, harry potter is not the main character, underage drinking referenced, when they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blitzz8/pseuds/Blitzz8
Summary: Strange things always seem to happen to Curt and Owen. At first its just a few enemy agents not noticing them, then suddenly they can teleport? With the threat of being found out looming over their shoulders and nowhere to run, the agents will do anything to stay together. Even in death.So, why does Curt Mega close his eyes hiding from his fellow agents and open them again in a strange hospital? Who are these people? Why do they have British accents? And why is he so tiny!?---------Prologue is pretty much the only saf bit here, the rest (when I get round to it) will be HP universe. Semi-canon compliant for Harry Potter but not completely, also this is the books/movies not AVPM.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue - Part 1 - The Russian Affair

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I've ever written on AO3. Hope I can actually finish this one, though that may take a while...

** Russian Weapons Facility – 24th May 1957 **

Mission Report

Secret agent Curt Mega discovered British agent Owen Carvour during a mission to retrieve blueprints from a Russian weapons facility. Many opponents were encountered during the escape, and the only way out was to destroy the whole facility. Secret agent Curt Mega came up with this genius solution. Thankfully, both of the handsome agents made it out safely. Special request for rocket shoes made in black to aid in future missions. End Report.

* * *

Owen PoV

This was it. The end. Here they were, the two greatest spies in the world, back to back, surrounded by Russian soldiers. About to die. And after all the plans he had made for tonight…

The ground began to rumble.

“Curt?”

“I lied, I set the timers for three minutes.” They began to run, climbing up the stairs as fast as they could.

“Oh, Curt Mega you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“No, I’d never let you down.” In hindsight, not the greatest choice of words, as Owen quickly slipped and found himself about to plummet to his death. His hands reached out, scrambling for something to grab onto.

Something grabbed his arm. Curt. Owen looked up in horror, Curt was holding onto the railing above, the facility is blowing up around them. Owen mumbled “Let go…”

“What?”

“You have to let go Mega, let go and run, save yourself, or you’ll fall with me!” Curt’s feet began to slip off the narrow path.

“I just said I’d never let you down didn’t I?”

“Mega…”

“No, we’re getting through this. Either we both survive,” The supports were beginning to collapse, now both of them were hanging above a fiery death. “or we both die…”

“We had a deal, Mega, if one of us can’t make it then the other has to! Just let go! Live your life!”

“Without you? I have no life.” Owen stared up in a mixture of shock, love, and frustration.

“Then we both die here. Are you okay with that? Think about your mother, will she even have a body to bury?” Tears began to fall from above, splashing on Owen’s face. Curt didn’t want to die, but he wanted Owen to die even less. An explosion rocked the foundations, and the rail Curt was holding broke. They plummeted to the ground, clinging onto each other for dear life.

The fall seemed to last for eternity. Both wishing to be safe in their trashy agency-funded hotel room, laying on the bed in each other’s arms. They wished more than anything.

A small weight began to fall out of Owen’s pocket.

**THUD**

They landed on a soft, cushioned surface, both firmly believing they were now in heaven before remembering that supposedly people like them can’t go there. Curt curled up in Owen’s arms, burying his head in the younger’s chest. Cautiously, Owen opened his eyes and found… they were lying on his bed… in the trashy hotel room their agency booked for them… an hour away from the exploding facility. He could hear faint explosions in the distance and a quick glance out the window showed the facility they were just in collapsing to the ground.

Owen took a moment to contemplate what just happened, then another to realize his shirt was getting wet. Curt was crying. Prying them apart, Owen shushed Curt, assuring him that, by some miracle, they were okay. Perhaps god had taken pity on them, perhaps they weren’t ‘wrong’ after all. Once Curt had properly calmed down, Owen suggested they go out to that restaurant they booked, they had been sitting there for quite a while after all and were getting rather hungry. Curt eventually agreed and began to lead the way there, making sure he was presentable on the way. Owen checked his pockets to make sure he didn’t forget anything important, only to find one empty. Internally panicking he subtly searched the room, finding a small box by the edge of the bed. Pocketing it, he hurried after Curt.

Dinner was a relaxed affair, both agents took the time to let their minds wander and attempt to process what had happened earlier that night. Neither could believe it, it seemed almost… supernatural, like magic.

After dinner they made their way down to the park which – as luck would have it – was deserted. Owen walked slightly behind, checking his pockets one final time. He peeked inside the box; there it was, in all its splendor, a gold, shining token of his heart and soul. Perfectly undamaged, good as new. Owen thanked whichever godly entity that had saved them once again.

‘Tonight’s the night huh? Here goes nothing I guess.’ Curt’s voice seemed distant, almost like it was underwater. Owen simply told himself to stop being so nervous.

“Why are you nervous?” Owen looked up.

“Huh?”

“I said why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You just muttered ‘stop being so nervous’ so you clearly were.”

“I- did I say that out loud?” Curt just shrugged in response. Owen took a deep breath, “You know what today is right?”

“Yeah, the day we almost died but teleported instead.”

“Yes, and it’s also the anniversary of our meeting. Two years ago today, our first mission together. From the very first time I saw you, I knew there was something different about you. You seemed… special to me. You **are** special to me. And… I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. You… mean a lot to me, Mega.” Curt huffed and averted his eyes.

“You mean a lot to me too Owen. Heck, why’d you think I held on for so long? Because of- because of you. I… it feels like we have a connection of sorts… sometimes I even feel like I know what you’re thinking… like, in words. It’s really weird actually, especially if you aren’t even in the same country.” The pair laughed together.

“Curt… despite everything at the facility being entirely your fault-“

“Hey!”

“-that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Owen shifted, getting down on one knee and pulling out the small gift. “Curt Mega, I love you more than anything else in the world, and while I know this will likely only make things harder, I ask… would you take this? Y- you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want- since we can't get married- and people would just ask questions- and-“ He cut himself off, Curt was laughing, also on one knee and fishing something out from his pocket. “What? What is- oh… oh Curt… I… Yes! A thousand times yes!”

Leaping to their feet the pair of lovers embraced one another. Who would’ve thought they would both choose to propose on the same night? The rings were simple gold bands, each had a subtle engraving on it. One of an owl, and one of a cat.

“My dear sweet kitten… I love you more than words can express.” Curt cupped his face.

“Then let your actions speak instead. Also I’m not a kitten, I’m older than you.”

“Darling, you will always be a kitten to me. A naive, small, reckless little kitten, still so curious about the world.” Curt huffed; he was not small, Owen was just abnormally tall.

They eventually made their way back to the hotel, amazed that no one saw them making out at the park. Still high from the relief that their feelings were reciprocated, they were already halfway across the reception area before realizing that they were still wearing their rings. Rings they didn’t have on the way out. Rings that anyone could see and put two and two together. But… no one did. No one even acknowledged it.

Once safely in their room Owen decided to try something; he wished for Curt to not be able to see the ring as much as he wished for no one to find out their secret. Watching closely, the air around the ring seemed to waver, but the ring stayed put. As he came out, Curt noticed Owen staring intently at his hand.

“Took it off to sleep huh? Probably a good idea, so long as we don’t loose them eh?”

“What?”

“You took your ring off.”

“I… no I didn’t, look.” He held up his hand, upon closer inspection Curt could see a slight haze in the air like in a desert on a hot day. Taking Owen’s hand, he could feel the ring was still there, but his hand was touching nothing.

“It’s invisible… Owen, you turned your ring invisible! Wait, can you do that to us as well? Because there were so many times in the past where those thugs definitely should’ve seen us but somehow didn’t, or they couldn’t hear us whispering and moving around. But… that happens sometimes even when you’re not there...?”

“Perhaps we both have this power. We… teleported…” They shared a glance. “Curt, I think we have supernatural powers.”

“You don’t say…”

“ _And_ I think we should train them, test the limits and strive to grow stronger. Become unstoppable, together.” They took a moment to think it over, pondering the endless possibilities.

‘gay magic’

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

“Did you just read my mind!?” Owen took a step back, this had the unfortunate outcome of collapsing on the bed, startling him and making him look much more surprised than he actually was. But yes, Curt’s mouth hadn’t moved.

“I… am far too sober for this.”


	2. Prologue - Part 2 - Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt and Owen are discovered and forced to try and flee MI6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A two part Prologue? More likely than you'd think.
> 
> contains references to torture, violence. its not extreme but its there.
> 
> also its "speech" 'thoughts/telepathy' in case anyone was confused

** Mission Report – France 5th September 1957 **

Agent Curt Mega and I were trying to infiltrate a suspected mafia base. Infiltration went smoothly, though it is of note that both agent Mega and I were wearing the same shoes yet his did not make a sound. Similarly, during our escape we were spotted – I say we, they yelled ‘there’s a foreigner in here’ foreigner being single despite Mega being at my side – and despite running frantically every one of agent Mega’s shots hit its target, even if he wasn’t looking at them. This is likely a skill that comes with being the self-proclaimed ‘best spy in the world’ but I felt it was of note. I will leave it up to the A.S.S to decide whether to pursue the matter. End Report.

** Mission Report – America 16th April 1959 **

I was in the final stages of tracking down and eliminating a new organisation called Chimera and was once again paired with agents Curt Mega and Owen Carvour. If you have read my previous reports then you will know my suspicions about these two. Once again, the ‘team’ seemed to consist of them as a pair and me as an afterthought – hardly unusual with them – and this mission has only further proved my observations.

For one, the two seemed inseparable (I would find agent Mega in agent Carvour’s room more than in his own) and were far more friendly than two agents from separate countries should ever be – even if these countries are allies for now. There were so many casual touches, and they seemed much less wary of each other than of me, even visibly relaxing when side by side in some instances.

Secondly, their communication seems to need no words, merely glances or vague gestures. When reviewing todays mission objectives we gathered in agent Carvour’s room, agent Mega not even sparing the decor a glance and seeming almost familiar with the layout of the place. Both agents sat comfortably on the corner of the bed – Carvour holding the map, and Mega looking over his shoulder, leaning against him.

Thirdly, the mission itself. During the mission, they would not stop exchanging quips, jokes, and teasing one another. Not until we were a single corridor away from our enemies – they abruptly became silent, covering my mouth before I could question them, only to begin shooting a moment later. I still do not know how they knew those chimera agents were there.

They were far to ‘ _friendly_ ’ for my liking if you know what I mean. I suggest both agents be individually reviewed for their loyalties and… other beliefs. End Report.

* * *

** England – 1st August 1961, Curt PoV **

Despite having taken down an (admittedly pathetic) attempt at bringing back the Nazis and freeing an ex-Russian spy called Tatiana with the help of his mother, Curt and Owen had found themselves summoned to MI6 headquarters for unknown reasons. Turns out they weren’t being praised, and instead were split up and interrogated. I’ll spare you the details but basically, it wasn’t pretty; both are now missing over half their fingernails, several chunks of hair, and are now sporting many injuries from various blades and whips. Owen had finally had enough and cast out a blast of energy, throwing back his interrogators and freeing him. He fled the scene, seeking where he felt Curt’s energy blast coming from. Curt himself had decided to copy Owen – though did so with much less precision and injured himself in the process – and both were now fleeing the labyrinth of underground passages, doors, and stairs.

**BANG!**

And agents, lots of agents under orders to capture them, dead or alive. Who’d think that when a pair of secret agencies discover that the two best agents in the world are not only ~~gay~~ but also possess supernatural powers that their first instinct is to torture for answers? Well that’s hardly surprising, Curt supposed, after all they did train us all in how to torture before training us to resist it. Some agents (Owen) were much more… imaginative… than others. They had a way of separating themselves from the situation, blocking out all emotions and just focusing on the job. Though it was almost reassuring when Curt had to comfort Owen afterwards, proof that he did have some humanity in him despite his actions in the moment. One benefit of being a self-proclaimed ‘master of torture’ was that he knew what felt painful, and what felt more-

‘OW! SH*T!’ Right, they were being shot at, not the best time to be thinking of that.

‘You okay Owe?’

‘Yes Curt I’ve just been shot, but I’m feeling just dandy!’ Curt somehow managed to roll his eyes.

‘Let’s just get out of here. D’you know the way?’

‘Why would I?’

‘You do work here.’

‘I’ve never been this far down though!’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Guide me.’ Curt grabbed Owen’s arm and led him down the corridor, dodging bullets as and when he could, creating a shield to protect Owen. Owen closed his eyes and let his mind reach out to his surroundings, mapping them as he went. Ten seconds later, he had found several paths out, and began leading Curt down the closest one.

Clambering up the stairs, they sent a shockwave around them knocking out every agent in the vicinity. Some fell down the stairwell, likely dying from falling all the way down the middle. Not that they felt guilt, they didn’t have time for that. They soon reached the floor where Owen’s boss’ office was. Standing outside was a group of people neither recognised; they were wearing strange clothes – were those robes? – and pointed intricately decorated sticks at the pair as they ran forwards.

‘What are they, witches? It’s not Halloween yet is it?’ Curt was joking but neither wanted to take a chance – these strangers looked far too serious to be playing dress up. One yelled “Stupify!” which seemed to be a spell sending out a red light towards them. Curt summoned a shield to block it while Owen sent out a sideways blast separating these wannabe witches from their sticks. Using their opponents shock to their advantage, the pair barged their way through, pushing them all to the ground in the process and blasting a wall down immediately after.

Using their spontaneous shortcut, the pair had only two flights of stairs and one corridor to go through before making it out. Owen’s boss yelled into her intercom for agents to block the doors they were heading for and, with all other exits requiring backtracking or making more holes, the two made a split-second decision. Neither agency would give up hunting them until they were captured or dead, and both knew which they preferred. Death would always be better than whatever experiments they might want to perform.

The lovers headed for a small storage room, turning invisible in the process to bide them some time.

‘Looks like this is the end for us kitten… I- I love you.’

‘I love you too my precious owl.’ The two embraced, sharing one final kiss, pouring all their love and soul into it.

‘Three’ They retrieved their guns.

‘Two’ Placed the end on each other’s heads.

‘One’ Pulled the trigger.

* * *

…

…………

……………………

It felt like floating on air, for a thousand years and yet no time at all. They daren’t open their eyes, simply basking in each other’s presence. It was warm, like being wrapped in the fluffiest blankets known to man, yet underwater at the same time.

All of a sudden, Curt felt himself being pulled away be some otherworldly force from every direction. The two desperately clung to one another, crying out futilely against this strange god trying to separate them. Seemingly hours later, Curt’s strength gave out and crying out one last ‘I love you’ to Owen, he let himself be carried away.

He was surrounded by blindingly bright lights and his body suddenly felt much heavier than it should. ‘Was I just a spirit in that other place?’ He felt himself be handed around by giants - surprisingly gentle giants. Were they talking? He couldn’t understand. He could barely hear. There was crying from somewhere – from him! Why was he crying and screaming? Why was it so high pitched?

“Here you go Mrs Mega.” He was handed to someone else. What was his mum doing there? Why was she a giant too!? He opened his eyes – with great difficulty – and blearily looked up at his mother.

“Hey there baby boy.” This wasn’t his mother. He looked around.

‘Am I in a… hospital?’ He turned back to ~~his mother~~ Mrs Mega.

“What’s going on?” He could barely understand the sounds he just made.

“He’s already trying to talk, the little treasure! Oh, he’s perfect. Thank you nurse.” He took the time to look at himself properly and… oh god. He’s a baby again.

Curt Mega had just been born.

Again.

What the f*** was going on!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's pretty much where the saf bit ends, from here its Harry Potter.


	3. The Early Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt’s life from being born, up to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a habit of writing long chapters. 
> 
> I promised my self I wouldn’t do that here. 
> 
> Guess what I did. 
> 
> (9000 words...)

** **1** ** ** **st** ** ** ** ** **November** ** ** **1981** **

Life was going well for Curt. He had a new family; a mother who didn’t smother him (though he couldn’t help missing his ‘real’ one) and a father who didn’t run away this time, so that was a nice change. He also noticed another difference with his new life, it was now 1981. He was just over a year old and more observant of his surroundings now and took full advantage of this skill whenever he could.

Today for example, he was joining his parents in a shopping trip and noticed several bizarrely dressed people around town, as well as a significant number of owls in the sky. Even worse, some of those folks resembled those mysterious robed people in MI6 who tried to attack them. Even his parents noticed something strange was going on, even the news did! The strangers were talking about a ‘Potter child’ being ‘the chosen one’ who ‘defeated you-know-who’ or ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’ whoever that was supposed to be. Clearly these wannabe witches were a superstitious lot.

* * *

** **4** ** ** **th** ** ** ** ** **October** ** ** **198** ** ** **3** **

Curt was staying up late, his Babysitter wasn’t even in the room, so he had free reign of the tv remote. At this moment in time, he was watching the news reporting a devastating crash on nearby road. It took a while, but the realisation of what he was watching eventually caught up with him. The news said the victims of the crash were in critical condition and unlikely to survive… That was his parent’s car.

His parents were just in a car crash.

They were unlikely to survive.

He was about to lose both of his parents… again.

Oh god!

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t see.

He was only vaguely aware of his babysitter tutting and turning the tv off.

Through the fuzz of his mind he could hear a voice calling out, telling him it would be okay, promising to always be there, it wasn’t real. It was just a dream.

Owen wasn’t real. That whole ‘spy life’ was just a dream. It had to be… didn’t it?

He looked to the rocking chair next to his cot. There he was – Owen. Smiling kindly, owl-shaped ring glistening on his finger as he gently rocked back and forth. Curt tried to reach out to him.

“Owen…” He started to fade.

“no- No! Owen! NO!” His babysitter came in to try and quiet him, picking him up and rocking him on the chair where Owen once sat. But he wasn’t real, his parents had just been killed right in front of him, and he didn’t know what to do.

So he wept. And wept. And didn’t stop until he passed out from exhaustion.

* * *

He woke up the next day to the ringing of the doorbell. Even though the door was on the other side of the house, he desperately wanted to know who it was, and so focussed his attention so that he could hear their conversation.

His babysitter opened the door, grumbling about how late his parents were, only to be greeted by a policeman. After determining who she was the man informed her of the deaths of Curt’s parents. Since he had no close relatives he would be taken to an orphanage for someone to ~~hopefully~~ adopt him. Despite it being the morning after, Curt was hit with a wave of numbness rather than anguish. If he was capable of thinking at that moment he probably would’ve wondered why he felt so detached from the situation. He didn’t feel like he’d ever be happy again - or sad - or anything for that matter. Like how he’d feel whenever someone (usually from the A.S.S) was talking about... people like him.

At some point he had the realisation that he actually cared about his ‘new’ parents. He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, luckily he couldn’t feel anything at that moment so focused on the conversation downstairs instead.

A social worker would be coming by soon to take him to his new home so he should have all his possessions packed by then. Deciding to do something useful, Curt began to empty his room of anything he treasured - there wasn’t much, he was only 3 years old after all.

When the worker arrived she brought a bag to put his stuff in to take with him to the orphanage. 10 minutes and several one-sided hugs later, he was in the car and on his way to his temporary home (apparently they expected him to get adopted pretty quickly but Curt has his doubts).

Soon they arrived at a place called ‘Wools Orphanage’. It felt vaguely sinister for some reason though Curt didn’t really care at that point. Going inside, Curt also registered a stronger, familiar energy but, again, ignored it.

Once inside he was introduced to the rest of the children there, not that he paid any of them much attention. People tried to comfort him, throwing sad looks his way as if that would somehow change things. Eventually the staff gave up encouraging to talk and led him up to his new room. After lingering depressingly in the doorway for a overly long time, she told him to *try* to get settled in and that dinner would be at some time that evening, Curt wasn’t paying attention to when. He considered hiding but there wasn’t much in the room so it would be an easy search, then he would be dragged downstairs anyway. He wasn’t even hungry despite having skipped both breakfast and lunch.

Some unknown time later, a kid poked their head in, inviting him into their room. For some reason, he obeyed.

Inside the room looked practically identical to his with the addition of a few trinkets here and there. Curt registered it seemed deliberate, as if someone who was actually very neat had bought some worthless junk and strategically strewn them around the room in an attempt to look normal. He almost wondered why he noticed this detail and the implications of it, but then remembered that he didn’t care right now. If they were secretly a spy pretending to be a normal child then that was their business.

......

Wait spy!? No! Bad Mega! It’s not real! It was never real!!

He never even realised that the room (and hence boy) smelt vaguely familiar, ~~like a home he never had~~.

The pair sat there in silence for a while, eventually Curt was pulled from his thoughts.

‘Hello Curt.’ He didn’t respond. The boy tried again.

‘Hello Curt.’ Curt sighed.

“We already said hi downstairs.”

‘You didn’t. And also, I didn’t say it like this either.’ Curt finally looked at him, his face matching another buried deep in his memory.

‘It couldn’t be.’

‘Oh Curt, yes it could.’

“Who are you?” The boy seemed to laugh, but didn’t even move...?

‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me, love.’ Curt gasped, the boy’s mouth hadn’t moved. ‘It’s only been, what? Three years?’

“Owen...?” There was that classic smirk he had convinced himself was just a dream.

‘The one and only. It’s good to see you again Curt, I was starting to think you weren’t real.’ Curt felt as if his world was suddenly turning from monochrome to colour, everything got brighter, bolder, louder, happier, more Owen-y-er if that’s even a word. He felt truly alive again for the first time in... his entire *new* life!

He seemed to utter a ‘same’, not that he could remember the context. It didn’t matter.

Owen was back. He was real! Curt seemed to find some otherworldly force flinging his body onto Owen’s in the greatest hug he had ever had. (It was actually him, but Curt Mega was a professional who could restrain himself when necessary.... or so he told himself)

Curt found himself considering a kiss because who cares who sees? They’re alone after all, there’s no one peeking in, what’s stopping them?

‘Mega we are both three years old.’ Oh... ‘Kisses can come later. ~~I~~ ~~promise~~ ’

Sadly hugs would have to do for now it seemed, better than nothing he supposed.

‘Given the modern day... it’s no longer illegal you know, ****we’re**** no longer illegal - as adults of course’ He looked up in surprise.

“Seriously!?” Owen nodded, as they both grinned at each other.

* * *

The two caught up on their (admittedly short) lives since dying.

Owen’s mother had abandoned him shortly after he was born, having introduced herself as his sister when dropping him off so it didn’t take a genius to figure out why she did it. (Curt ****definitely**** realised instantly, and ****definitely**** didn’t struggle for 30 painful seconds before Owen sighed and told him, **no** ** **definitely not!**** )

They discussed the strange robed people from a few years back, and how there must be a whole society of those ~~cult members~~ magician people. They vowed to investigate the chance of their continued existence... as soon as they were old enough to get away with wandering the streets of London without an adult. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the older kids would regularly sneak out - at all times of the day - and go and do (whatever it was they did) in London. There were even rumours of gang involvement but the staff still turned a blind eye.

They also discovered that their pockets (and powers) also worked the same as they did during their spy days - you can put anything in, and easily take said anything out so long as you imagine it there. Speaking of;

‘Curt look.’ Owen pulled a previously invisible chain from beneath his shirt. Hanging on it was the ring Curt had given him all those years ago. ‘I keep it with me everywhere I go, don’t worry I’ve tested and no one but us can see it. Here, lemme help you do the same - oh and the chain is the one MI6 gave me, I’m sure you got one too?’ Curt nodded, grabbing both from his endless pockets and sliding one through the other. He turned around so Owen could help him with the clasp.

Owen mentioned that he theorised the pockets possibly led to small pocket dimensions they could both access from anywhere pocket-ey, Curt complained that it was too much science for his ~~small baby~~ brain to handle, while elbow deep in his pocket, trying to figure out how large the space actually was without setting off any grenades - why did they even have those in there? - or cutting himself on one of the (many) blades.

“Owen?”

‘Mhm?’

“Why do you have so many bones in here?”

‘You never know when you might need one-‘

“They’ve been cleaned!”

‘Saves time in an emergency-‘

“Some of them are carved!?”

‘Bone tools are sometimes better than metal/stone/or wood depending on the tool and task-‘ Curt pulled out one that was definitely Not for 3 year olds, raising his eyebrow.

‘I get bored sometimes okay? And if you’re not there...’

“Owen it’s made of BONE!?”

‘So are you sometimes...’

“.... that was terrible.”

‘I know :)’ Curt facepalmed.

“We are 3, why are we even having this discussion. Be very glad we haven’t hit puberty yet.” He was sure he heard a muttered ‘oh I can’t wait’ but Owen’s face was the definition of innocence so he couldn’t be sure.

Owen spent the rest of the day trying to re-teach telepathy since it would be vital if they wanted to talk in private in this place. Neither considered how to make Curt’s visit today silent, but thankfully Owen had subconsciously warded the room anyway - not that he knew what that was yet.

Dinner was a huge relief for all the staff, Curt had made his first friend at the orphanage and seemed to have all but forgotten all about his parents. “He’s like a whole different kid” and “good on Owen for reaching out to him” were among the things muttered in the staff room that night.

No one knew that Curt didn’t spend the night in his own room, preferring the warmth and comfort of an Owen who - despite being a child ****and younger than him**** \- was still almost half a head taller. Then again, this did allow for prime shoulder height for resting his head on so Curt supposed he could deal with it for now. (Though he would be the taller one eventually he was sure! Don’t laugh at me Owen, just you wait, I’ll eat all the greens and grow to be three times your size, then we’ll see who’s laughing. Owen? What do you mean we would have to swap positions? What? ... Owen!! You can’t just ****say that**** when I am tRYING TO SLEEP!! And stop laughing!)

* * *

Starting the following day, the two gradually befriended everyone at the orphanage and everyone agreed - they were a force to be reckoned with; anything they wanted, they got, be it from someone giving it to them, stealing it, or just magically grabbing it from their pockets even though there was no reasonable explanation as to how it got there (or even how it fit in some cases, there was a rumour that Curt once pulled a good as new, unopened bottle of wine from 30 years ago out of the pocket in his shorts as part of an exchange with one of the elder kids but that had to be fake... right?)

By the age of 5 (and a half) they had begun venturing out into ~~London~~ the world, making allies in the form of shop owners, locals, gang members who made the mistake of messing with them, always having their faces disguised to look like someone else of course (later they would call it glamour).

They had also grown used to using their powers; invisibility, silencing the area, compelling others to obey simple tasks (so long as it wasn’t too out of character), disguising themselves and *small* objects, even adding a certain ‘power’ to small objects that - when linked up with another device, eg a pair of pebbles - would act as a microphone, sending audio from one rock to the other which the boys could listen to.

There were always whispers on the street, some “largest magical shopping district in Britain” supposedly existed, hidden in London’s maze of alleyways and back entrances. Apparently “only wizards and witches” could find it, not that the boys were going to let that stop them. And so they were understandably delighted when - in early August, just after Owen’s 7th birthday ~~which they spent trying to hide how drunk they had both gotten~~ \- an older boy by the name of Jason received a strange visitor.

* * *

** **2nd August 1987** **

It was a fairly ordinary day, until She showed up. A strict old woman who clearly took no nonsense from anyone. She headed inside, rumours spreading like wildfire, ranging from some strange old lady to a witch to one of their parents to the mother of Winston Churchill for some reason.

She came in like she owned the place, marching towards the head Matron and asking to see Jason Harper, before marching said matron up to his room. The boys made the genius decision a few years ago to hide listening rocks in every room in the orphanage, so they activated Jason’s and curled under ~~Owen’s~~ Curt’s blanket ~~which he stole from Owen but will deny it until the day he dies... again~~ to listen to their conversation. Owen - being the more sensitive of the two - felt her casting some energy around the room which felt shockingly similar to when they wanted to silence their room and prevent anyone listening in as well as door locking energy and a few more he couldn’t identify. A nervous breath from Jason accompanied this. The boys were feeling the same; this woman was one of those robe wearers. This was what they had been looking for, but also spelled danger if they were discovered.

“Hello Jason, I am professor McGonagall, do you know why I am here today?”

“Y- you want t- to ad- dopt me?” She sighed, sad.

“Not quite I'm afraid, though if I had my way, none of you would be here in this... rotten place.” She sighed again, presumably looking around. “Tell me, have you ever done something strange? Made objects move without touching them, or made lights flicker when you were angry?”

“Y- yeah...?” He sounded nervous for some reason - more so than was appropriate for the situation - which in itself was worrying. “Yeah... dad said to always be careful with it.... then he....” the poor boy choked out a sob, “then when I came here, I accidentally broke something when I got angry once.... the staff were terrified, and-“ another sob, “and they were muttering to each other and looking at me afraid. I heard them saying how they should probably just get rid of me while they still could...” there was a disapproving mutter from the woman.

“But th- the head matron said to give me a chance and I’ve made sure to never do anything **_**freakish**_** again!” The woman sighed sadly again.

“Well... I’m here to tell you that you are not a... freak. Or anything like that. You are magic, that is a very rare, very _special_ gift. You should be proud of it.

“I myself am a professor at a place called Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, we teach almost a thousand children just like you each year to control your abilities and learn how wonderful magic can be.” Jason sounded unsure, shuffling away from her. The woman began muttering incomprehensible words under her breath - was that Latin? - perhaps showing off some magic if the sounds of wonder from Jason were anything to go by. There were a few whooshing sounds accompanied by a quiet “woah”.

“That’s called transfiguration, that’s the subject I teach at Hogwarts. There are several communities of people like us all around the world. One of them is right here in London, teachers like myself are assigned children to introduce to the magical world. They are all people who grow up outside the magical world like yourself - we call non-magicals ‘muggles’, and its very important that we keep magic a secret from them, you’ve seen how they tend to react.” There was a pause, possibly because Jason was nodding, Owen made a mental note to investigate a visual version of these audio rocks.

“Later I will speak to one of the staff here and make sure they understand your situation so they can help you in the future for things like shopping and travel, but for now we should head off to Diagon Alley.”

“Diagonally?” She seemed to smile.

“No, Diagon. Alley. It’s the central hub of magical Britain, and it’s right here in London.” Curt and Owen exchanged a glance, this was what they had been looking for! The rumours were true!

“Now, do you have any money?”

“No...?” Another sigh - she seemed to be doing that a lot today.

“Very well, no matter, all students have a vault in Gringotts - the Wizarding bank - with enough money to last until you’ve left school so you won’t have to worry about finances.” Another pause presumably with some more nodding. “Well, any questions before we set off?”

“Uh... no ma’am.”

“Good. Come along now, we don’t want to take all day after all.”

* * *

Sneaking out, glamouring themselves, and adding invisibility just to be sure, Curt and Owen followed the pair into London and down to a pub called the leaky cauldron. Leaning nonchalantly against the wall, Owen began to feel quite the cacophony of energies - presumably from countless different people - emitting from inside the doorway. The boys wisely decided to return later once everyone *should* have left.

When Jason returned several hours later, he was immediately swamped by the rest of the kids who took him outside to play/interrogate. Curt went to join the rest in case he spilled the beans while Owen went to investigate his room.

Inside he found a large trunk as the only new addition, however it was locked by what he now knew was magic. There were several layers, each wrapping over and around the others. After a short debate, Owen decided not to risk alerting the old lady that he had been here and met back up with Curt just in time for dinner. The pair telepathically conversed about their findings (or lack thereof in Curt’s case).

‘The energies on the trunk, they’re just like what we can do. Curt-‘

‘You think we have magic?’

‘-I think we have magic!’ Curt took a steadying breath. ‘Can you imagine what we can do with this? If we put our minds to it - and do a bit of research - I’m sure we can become just as powerful as her! Perhaps even surpass her!’

‘So we will also go to that... Hog-wart place?’

‘Presumably!’ Owen was getting visibly excited now (if you knew what to look for, which Curt did). ‘There are other people just like us out there Curt!’ Curt gave him a Look.

‘Okay perhaps not _exactly_ like us, but they have magic too! I mean - fuck those guys at MI6 - but I think that’s actually pretty cool! And think a robe would suit me, don’t you Mega?’

* * *

** **1 am the next day** **

The duo had returned to the leaky cauldron with the expectation that even the late-night drinkers would either be gone or drunk beyond sense.

‘As I’m sure you have much experience in _Curt_.’

‘Hey!’

There were a few patrons still there but since they were both glamoured to look like someone else and invisible just in case, they passed through unnoticed. Owen led them in the direction of the energy/magic and out behind the bar. Three of the bricks were infused with slightly more magic than the rest so when Owen activated them...

A wave of magic, hot as the summer sun came crashing down upon them. Before them stood Diagon Alley in all its... empty glory.

‘I guess there’s no such thing as nightlife down here.’ Curt mused somewhat sadly.

At the end of the alley was a giant marble building which, upon closer inspection, read Gringotts Bank. It was closed for the evening.

Taking another look at their surroundings, Owen spotted a shady alleyway with a sign saying ‘Knockturn Alley’ and decided to investigate.

It was a dreary place, dark and spooky, with a constant scent of evil lingering around each corner.

‘Very good at deterring anyone curious enough to accidentally wander in.’ They wandered further in regardless, weapons at the ready just in case.

Turning yet another corner they discovered what could only be described as an old hag sitting in a rocking chair, sowing with something that was definitely Not Thread using needles that were definitely made out of human bone.

‘Male, young adult, about 26 given the strength, one of the bones that makes up the hand - because you know how your fingers end here, but your bones actually go all the way up to the wrist-‘

‘Yeah, yeah I get it.’

‘Uh, I’d say they likely died from starvation because... *sniff* they had a very poor diet- homeless in that case. The needles are very well carved though, my compliments to the creator, but they are very simple in terms of aesthetics-‘

‘Owen please!’ He paused, remembering where they were before nodding in apology. ‘Thank you... Now, let’s continue.’

‘Wait.’ Owen held up his hand. ‘There’s a wall of en- of magic here... it feels like what happens when we become visible. Let’s be careful.’ Curt nodded, deciding to listen to him for once.

Taking a careful step forward, Owen shimmered back into view, Curt carefully doing the same while keeping an eye on Her. After a few seconds with no reaction, the pair began to leave.

“Through there lies what you seek.” They stared at Her, She had rows upon rows of pointed teeth yet Her voice was that of a kind old lady. “Be careful boys, it’s not exactly welcoming to strangers.” Nodding their thanks they turned to leave.

“And by the way,” She looked up, her eyes black as ink. “next time you find yourselves sneaking around, remember to silence your footsteps.” She grinned, seemingly excited about what the boys were about to see.

She had every reason to be. When the path eventually opened out onto the Main Street, the boys could barely cover their shock at what they saw; the alley was filled with people, bustling about, pickpocketing, buying and selling items neither had any chance of naming-

‘Oh look, a bone seller.’

‘Owen, Not why we’re here.’

There were creatures of all kinds, shapes, sizes, and the amount of magic filling the air, it was even more overpowering than Diagon. There was a sign pointing back into Knockturn Alley.

‘If that’s Knockturn, then where is this?’

“You two look lost.” The pair whirled around to see a man towering over them. His face looked worn but not from age. Curt took a subtle sniff and concluded that he worked with an array of substances on a regular basis.

‘Do you think these wizards make potions?’

‘Curt don’t be ridiculous.’ He rolled his eyes before pausing as he glanced at a nearby shop. It read Meatlug’s Apothecary. ‘Of course they do.’ He turned back to the man who seemed to be studying them.

“Where are we?” The man glanced at the sign.

“Nocturne alley of course.”

“But that’s Knockturn over there?” Curt protested.

“Yeah, But that’s with a ****Kn**** , this place is with just an ****N**** then an ****e**** at the end. It can be confusing for the intellectually challenged.” He sounded out his words slowly and precisely, as if taking to children - which to be fair, he was. Curt and Owen tried very hard not to let the insult show.

“I take it that you wandered in from diagon? The exit is that way.”

“Actually we wanted to come here, to.... explore! Yeah, and diagon is empty right now, and there’s nothing to do there, and-“

“Enough excuses. Deliberate or not, I doubt you will survive here, you certainly don’t _look_ like you belong.” Owen looked over the alley, gesturing to the homeless children. At first glance, you’d think the orphans from wools were homeless too.

“I actually think we’d fit right in.” He remarked, grabbing one of the kids trying to rob him and holding him to the ground, never once breaking eye contact with the strange man. The man raised an eyebrow, evidently impressed.

“What do you know of Darke magic?” They exchanged a glance, Curt thought back to the stories his second parents had read to him.

“Isn’t dark magic evil? Or easily corrupts anyone who uses it?” Everyone around them seemed to freeze, some reached for hidden weapons, others for their wands. They heard a murmur in the crowd.

“Another one corrupted by the light.”

“What’s the light?” The silence somehow intensified.

“Do you know _anything_ about magic?” The man asked hesitantly, as he began leading them towards a building which seemed to be another Gringotts.

“We only found out this morning from overhearing a conversation.” Curt confessed as he avoided Owen’s elbow. The man asked who between. “A kid we live with and some old woman called... Professor mag- magon- professor m-“ he struggled with the name. “Magonagull...?”

“Professor McGonagall. Of course.”

“D’you know her?” Curt wondered.

“I can’t say I don’t recognise the name.” The man replied. Owen watched silently from his side as he read the inscription on the building.

‘Enter stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.’

“May we have your name?” The man glanced at them.

“Sharpe.”

“What about your real name?” He paused as Owen elbowed Curt again. His surprise evident despite the poker face.

“Rule two of Nocturne; never give out your real name.” Curt asked about rule one. “Rule one is to never look anyone in the eye unless you know you can take them down. And rule three is to trust everyone as if they will betray you.” He rolled his eyes when Curt mumbled about how ‘that doesn’t even make sense.’ Owen came to his rescue.

“Never give out personal information, don’t accidentally challenge anyone to a duel to the death unless you know you can win, don’t trust anyone to tell you the truth, and treat everyone as if they will happily use your every action, word, or secret against you.”

“Business as usual then.” Curt responded. Sharpe’s mouth twitched in amusement, or perhaps he was just impressed. It was hard to tell.

They wandered up to a free.... thing? Person?

“Goblins.” Sharpe supplied, seeing their reaction. “They manage finances in the Wizarding world.” He requested an inheritance test for the boys... whatever that was, and stated he would be in the waiting area.

* * *

Curt and Owen followed the goblin down a maze of corridors that seemed to be designed to confuse. Eventually they came to an ornate door.

“Room two zero one six, Master Ripclaw will see you now.” They walked in, sitting on the offered chairs while observing the room. It looked like a standard office if that office had been built during the Middle Ages.

The boys were lectured on what an inheritance test was as well as each of the categories it covered.

“Add seven drops of blood to your parchment.”

As it turns out, inheritance tests can be quite long. They began by stating that both had very dark magical cores, meaning that darker magic would be easier and more powerful for them than light. It then stated that neither of them was under the influence of spells or potions (though Curt did still have a few drops of alcohol in his system which the test picked up on). They both had a vault which had been closed for several generations containing not insignificant piles of gold. Apparently they were both descended from squibs who had been cast out of the family but Gringotts was willing to rewrite that if the boy’s promised to keep gold flowing in and out of those vaults.

A few pages of parchment later and the boys were fully emancipated (meaning they were now legal adults and lords of their respective houses). This gave them full access to their vaults as well as full control over (and Curt visibly shivered at this) _marriage contracts_. They also got a Snazzy ring each bearing their ~~family logo~~ house crest. They quickly joined the other rings on their secret necklaces.

“Guess who’s got more gold than you~~” Curt sang.

“Yeah? Well at least I don’t have a name like _Curt Slytherin_!”

“Mock me all you want _Owen Black_ , But don’t come crying to me when you lose your lordship!”

Owen was acting Lord to the house of Black but was technically only third in line after Sirius Black and Harry Potter, whoever they were. While Curt was second in line to the house of Slytherin but the goblins were once again willing to alter the records because apparently Tom Riddle has disappeared years ago and was also a despicable person.

“And also the family tree states that you are actually more closely related to Slytherin than him, you are a direct descendant while he comes from a family who married into the line.” The goblin seemed rather pleased with the boys inheritance. “I suggest you keep this information secret so you may use it to your advantage later.” The boys nodded in agreement.

They then visited their vaults, grabbing gold, books, and any enchanted jewellery and clothes (making sure to steer clear of cursed items and organising for Gringotts to sort through and remove anything dangerous).

* * *

They met Sharpe in the main section of the bank and were taken shopping. They bought trunks, clothes, wands, and even had a look at the pets but decided they had no reasonable way of looking after one in secret. Everything they bought was placed in their trunks which they were them taught how to shrink and grow. The shrunken trunks then went in their pockets along with everything they had stashed from Gringotts.

After spending the evening on a gratefully accepted yet highly suspicious spending spree, Sharpe introduced them to the gateway between Nocturne and London so they could bypass diagon completely. They thanked him for his help and headed off into the night.

Once hidden in a backstreet, The boys checked each other for spells anyone may have cast, relieved when they came up clean. Eventually they made it back to Wools just in time for a quick nap, before having to wake up again for breakfast.

* * *

Over the next few years the boys returned to both Nocturne and diagon many times (in disguise of course) and made many friends with the locals. They worked together to learn everything they could about magic, lordships, potions, and much more, specialising in wandless magic since it was the most powerful and easy to manipulate a spell for an unintended purpose.

They also discovered tracking spells, wards, and the law forbidding magic in Muggle areas and spent a good week wondering why they had never been caught. Once they tried to cast tracking and locating charms on each other they realised what was happening; they were seemingly immune to both, meaning that even if they performed magic in front of muggles the ministry still wouldn’t know.

‘But why? This must’ve been the case since our spy days...’ Curt wondered.

‘Possibly because we desperately didn’t want to be discovered as lovers, and that extended to our magic even though we didn’t know what magic was yet.’ Owen responded.

‘Are were the only ones to do this? Surely this has happened before right? There’s no way...’

‘How many people have been reincarnated Mega? From the books we’ve read, there’s “no concrete evidence that reincarnation is possible”. Do you want to tell them otherwise? Be examined? Possibly imprisoned if they think we’re a threat?’ Curt was silent in reply. ‘I thought not.’

They also perfected their listening devices, placing them in prime gossip spots such as various places in both alleys, popular areas of London, and even on the train to Hogwarts - Owen was surprised at how easy it was to get on and off without being questioned.

They even had a competition to see who could get the most devices into the trickiest places. (Owen won by placing no less than Eight (8) in the Tower of London after it opened in 1989). When Curt asked how he found it so easy, Owen claimed to be familiar with the layout.

‘.... what? Owen, the tower Just Opened.’

‘True... But I had to find some way to entertain myself in my youth.’

‘.......... OWEN!!!?’

‘Hey hey, a guy’s gotta have his hobbies, especially as the time between missions can get rather boring. What better entertainment than trying to get into places I’m not meant to be and see what I can get away with?’ There was a thud. ‘Curt? Curt!? Oh, ahahah!’ Curt had fainted.

The pair also became masters of occlumency and Legilimency which, coupled with their natural talents for information gathering, made the pair banks of knowledge. This was rather useful when learning the ins and outs of Nocturne.

They also discovered that they seemed to partially share each other’s minds but Owen convinced Curt to not investigate this further while their brains and bodies were still growing and maturing as it could have deadly consequences. Ripclaw had agreed with this.

Several years prior, the goblins had assisted them elsewhere too; investing in various businesses (under an alias so as to not reveal that the Slytherin and Black family vaults were active), as well as organising the restoration of various properties spread across the world which the boys could use as safehouses if they needed to. While Owen arranged to keep everything he did secret from Sirius, Curt became acquainted with his house elves.

Several introduced themselves as the managers of various properties who greeted him then returned to their duties, until there was only one elf left.

“Me is being Tipp, young master, Tipp be’s here to serve as young master’s personal elf. Anything young master needs, Tipp will help!”

“Uhh.. thank you... Tipp. Umm, you wouldn’t happen to know how to raise a pureblood heir would you?”

“Oh yes! Tipp knows exactly how to raise a proud, proper, and honourable heir young master!”

“Great, can you tutor me and Owen then? We would really appreciate it.”

“Tutor the young master and his friend? Of course! Yes! Of course Tipp will tutor young master so he will never embarrass himself in front of others! Yes! Tipp would be honoured!” The little elf was bouncing up and down as all excited house elves do.

Owen’s reaction to house elves is a memory Curt swore he’d keep forever.

Basically. The boys had a very busy few years, but they were nothing if not a) hopelessly in love, 2) efficient at sorting through and memorising masses of information, and iv) consistent.

* * *

** **31st July 1991** **

Soon enough came their 11th birthdays. Curt had a whole month and seven days to gloat about how much older he was than Owen. He spent every possible moment reminding Owen to ‘listen to and respEct yOuR elDeRs YouNg mAn!’

McGonagall visited today (Owen’s birthday which he had been hoping to enjoy by lounging around doing nothing), and came up to Curt’s room to ‘introduce’ the boys to the Wizarding world. She gave the same speech she had to Jason, sighed at their living conditions, and took them down to diagon alley.

They marvelled at the sight, were mildly disturbed be the goblins, bought their ‘first’ wands, potions ingredients, and textbooks, then went to the pet shop to browse. The woman suggested an owl so Owen choose the most suitable one while Curt got distracted by the felines. Eventually they had a barn owl and a tiny ball of fluff which would eventually grow into a Bengal cat.

‘Why not go exotic? Why a barn owl?’ Curt asked.

‘Because, Mega, they’re far more common and so less likely to be identified if we need to send something incognito.’

‘In-cog-?’

‘In secret.’

‘Oh.’ Owen rolled his eyes, for the worlds second greatest spy Curt sure had some massive gaps in his knowledge about spying.

‘Why a Bengal cat?’

‘Is that what it is? Huh, didn’t know there were so many kinds of cat.’

Owen mentally threw his face into the wall because no hand could ever be big enough for that facepalm.

‘Mega, there are multiple breeds of dog?’

‘Yeah?’

‘And tigers?’

‘Yeah?’

‘And everything?’

‘Yeah... oh! Duh.’ He looked quite sheepish now. It turned out that he fell for the cutest one he saw and didn’t put much thought into his decision beyond that.

Owen would return that afternoon to buy a Raven which had caught his eye without McGonagall knowing about it. Curt asked why a raven.

‘I need something to remind me of home - my original home, not this rotten place.’

‘How would a Raven help with that?’

‘There were Ravens where I lived.’

‘Where did you live, the Tower of London?’

‘Actually I did for a week in 1948.’

There was silence.

‘Owen you were TWELVE!’

‘And much smaller and easier to hide.’

‘?!!!!????? Was... was this when you became familiar with its layout..?’

‘Uhhhhh... Yeah! Yep, mhm, that was the week :) ‘ Curt was not impressed.

Their last shop of the day was for robes - there had been horrendous queues earlier. McGonagall took them in and asked for the necessary robes before leaving to do something else, saying she’d be back shortly. The only other occupants of the room were two boys about their age who were currently being measured. One was blond and seemed to be talking down about mudbloods which the boys had learned was the derogatory term for what Nocturne called Newbloods. The shorter boy with the dark messy hair was being carefully quiet.

The topic soon turned to Hogwarts houses and the blond one finally noticed Curt and Owen, introducing himself as Draco Malfoy while the other remained nameless. Curt and Owen introduced themselves, asking if he was a pureblood since he seemed to know a lot about Hogwarts.

“Of course, my whole family has been in Slytherin for generations, and I’m going to do the same.” He was rather pompous. “What about you three? You aren’t mudbloods are you?” His voice turned accusatory towards the end.

“No.” Owen replied, simply. “We were thinking that Mega would be going to Gryffindor but weren’t sure about myself. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Gryffindor? I can’t be friends with a Gryffindor! There’d be riots!”

“Why? It’s just house, it’s only a matter of personal values - a Gryffindor and a Slytherin may have exactly the same personality but depending on what they value most they would be in different houses. There is no valid reason for the interhouse rivalry to be this fierce, it’s simply a measure of how one approaches a situation.

“For example; four students encounter a locked door. The Ravenclaw would find the key, the Slytherin would pick the lock, the Gryffindor would kick the door down, and the Hufflepuff would knock.” Everyone else seemed thoughtful, even Madam Malkin who was searching for the right silk in the corner.

“What would you choose, Carvour?”

“I’d probably try to figure out who or what is on the other side of that door, if there’s a barricade, who might have the key and how easily I can get it from them, how much time I have to do this, and so on. Then come to a conclusion based on all that.” Everyone looked at him blankly. He ran a hand through his hair. “It depends on the situation.”

Malfoy soon left with his parents, shortly followed by the other boy with what appeared to be a half giant of a man. It didn’t take long before their clothes were ready and McGonagall returned to take them home. On the way, they brightly conversed with her about how amazing that day was, while mentally they were elsewhere.

‘Malfoy.’

‘Yep.’

‘I don’t like him.’

‘He’s fuelled by the views of his parents Curt, have a little sympathy.’

‘He’s in My house. The house named after My ancestor!’

‘Curt-‘

‘It’s true then. I knew that modern Slytherins were bad but I didn’t know they were _this_ bad!’

‘Curt, I know, but please calm down, you are getting agitated and that’s not the tone McGonagall is expecting when talking about plants!’

‘I- I know. I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay. Did you see that other boy? He’s rather shy and small for someone pampered his whole life.’

‘That scar... you think that was Harry Potter? But... that can’t be? He doesn’t look anything like what the rumours say?’

‘He looked like my sister...’ Owen had a haunted look in his eyes. Curt was thankful McGonagall was too busy walking ahead to notice. It was a silent agreement between the two that neither was to mention Owen’s sister or father under any circumstances. Curt found that out the hard way on a particularly painful night in Montreal. Cynthia didn’t fully believe him when he said all his injuries came from the mission.

‘So,’ Curt began, ‘stalk Harry Potter?’

‘Stalk Harry Potter.’

* * *

Since it was late and the boys were tired, the other kids promised to wait until tomorrow to harass them about their trip, leaving Curt and Owen plenty of time to retreat back to the entrance to the leaky cauldron, let Owen detect Potter’s magical signature, and follow it.

Using a handy little spell Owen had created himself back in their spy days, Owen felt for Potter’s signature then visualised it on a map. That map then showed exactly where he had came from and where he had gone. All that was left was to take the wonderful Knight bus to little whinging in Surrey. One quick invisibility later and they walked over to number 4 privet drive.

The house did have wards... keyword being did, since there was barely anything left now. As Owen examined it he found that the wards were powered by Potter’s own magic and were greatly draining him. Normally they would be powered by familial love but since that was clearly absent...

Owen easily sliced a thin hole for him and Curt to slip through, making a note to repair it once they left. They took a peek through the window: there was a giant of a man and a stick of a woman grumbling to each other about something, occasionally glancing out into the hallway. The man-thing would sometimes gesture violently. If Owen seemed slightly paler than normal Curt didn’t mention it. Silencing their movements, the pair entered the house via the front door. They could now simply walk right up to the adults and listen in (making sure to keep out of the way in case they decided to move).

The general gist was that the couple were grumbling about “that freak they were forced to house” and how “at least he will be gone for most of the year until he’s an adult and by then we can throw him out anyway” and “shame we won’t have anyone to do all the chores anymore”. There were several insults thrown in too of course.

Owen had wandered off upstairs during this and had discovered the Dursley’s ‘little Angel’ ~~sleeping peacefully~~ playing a video game upstairs. The boys met at the bottom of the stairs while Owen was still reeling from seeing so many toys in one room. They still had one question to answer though - the one they had been avoiding - Where was Potter?

Not in the second bedroom. Not in the living room. So where-?

They were interrupted by a small cough coming from below the stairs. The giant Male came marching out of the living room, face turning bright red.

“What do you think you’re doing boy!? Coughing? We give you a place to live and you cough all over it? We are trying to discuss an adult matter - nothing to do with you - and you dare interrupt us!?”

“Vernon, Duddeykins is asleeeeeeeppp!”

“Of course, sorry my dear.” The whale turned back to the cupboard he has been shouting at, his head now a strange shade of purple. “You do that one. More. Time. Boy, and you will be Out! Do you hear me?”

There was a muffled “yes uncle Vernon” from the cupboard. The man merely nodded and stomped away back to his wife to continue his grumbling.

Seeing Owen’s clenched fist turn white, Curt sneaked a glance through the vent into Harry Potter’s ‘room’, barely managed not to cough from all the dust in there, accidentally cast a spell to vanish all dust causing Potter to gasp and his uncle to begin marching in again, panicked and spelled both adults to sleep, then grabbed Owen’s hand and fled the house, two thuds following behind as they closed ~~slammed~~ the door.

Once Owen was calm enough to repair the wards and tie them to the Dursley’s rather than Potter, the pair began the trek back up the road to then call for the Knight bus back to London, before silently working their way back to Wools.

Neither got any sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna take a while...
> 
> I only actually usually do any work for an hour or two on Mondays and I tend to write more words than is strictly necessary so while I do plan to finish this story I will take some time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I was originally only going to have one prologue but it was pretty long and seemed to be in two separate parts so here we are.


End file.
